Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 49968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
He kneeled in front of me, and I washed his thick locks, ignoring the dull ache in my hands, enjoying the action of massaging his head, hoping it felt good. He stood and rinsed, shutting off the water flow. He dried me off, rubbing some ointment into my back. I tried not to flinch, but I knew I did, and he looked grim as he finished. He pulled a loose T-shirt over my head and handed me some pills.
He dried off and pulled on some sweats, then led me to his room, drawing back the covers. “I had everything cleaned, so you’ll be comfortable. Do you want me to close the curtains?”
“Please.”
He did so using a remote, and the room became dark.
“Will you stay?”
“If you want me to.”
“Please.”
He lay beside me. My back was too sore to press on, so I turned on the side that hurt the least. He moved closer, wrapping an arm around me. Our chests melded together, and I felt the heat of him soak into me.
“Is this okay?”
“Yes.” I patted his chest. “I’m not afraid of you, Aldo. I like your touch.”
He pulled my head to his torso, his fingers stroking my neck in soft passes. We were quiet for a moment, then I spoke. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I should have waited for Terry. I had a headache, and I was angry. But I shouldn’t have left.”
He sighed, his breath warm on my head. “I’m sorry for what I said that made you angry. I was being an ass. I didn’t mean it, Violet. I was reacting, not speaking the truth. You do mean something. Something big. I’m trying to sort it all out. I was coming to you when I got the call.”
He was silent for a moment. “I’ve never experienced fear the way I did when I realized he had gotten to you. That I had failed to protect you. That I might never have the chance to tell you I was sorry and that I cared so much it frightened me.”
I lifted my head, meeting his eyes. “When he was choking me, all I could think about was I would never get the chance to tell you that I loved you. That you would never know how happy you made my life and that I would never regret a moment I spent with you. I was so sad that you would never know how incredible I think you are.”
His eyes glittered in the dimness of the room. I was shocked to realize he was crying.
“I don’t deserve that.”
“Yes. Yes, you do.”
He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I will try to live up to your expectations of me.”
“You already do.”
He tugged me a little closer, and I had to shut my eyes. He didn’t tell me that he loved me back, but I remembered what Roman had said. I needed to give Aldo time.
A small part of me wondered if he ever would.
And that part of me cried.
CHAPTER 16
VI
The next few days passed by in a blur. I slept a lot, often only waking because the pain broke my sleeping pattern. Every time I woke up, Aldo was there, ever patient, wanting to help. He fed me, gave me medication, helped me in the shower, and held me when he would tuck me back into bed. A few times, I roused alone, only to see him sitting in the chair close to the bed, watching me or dozing. A couple of times, he had his laptop open and was busy typing. Twice, he was on the phone with Roman, or least I assumed that’s who it was. I caught snippets of the conversation, but my mind was too tired to link it all together, and I would fall back asleep.
I woke up again, my mind more alert and the pain not as intense. I blinked in the midmorning light, glancing at the clock. It was past eleven, and I was surprised to find myself alone in the room. It was the first time that had happened since Aldo had brought me here. He was always close when I woke.
I felt a breeze coming in the window, and I sat up gingerly, breathing in the fresh air. I could hear the timbre of Aldo’s voice, and I swung my legs over the mattress and stood. I had to take a minute to find my equilibrium, then I walked to the open window and peeked out. Aldo was in the front of his house, pacing as he spoke. He looked serious, his voice pitched low. I couldn’t really hear what he was saying, but I was glad to know he was close. I padded to the bathroom, emptying my bladder, washing my hands and face, and brushing my teeth. I still looked pale, and the bruises were dark on my skin, but my head was clearer and the persistent headache was a dull thump instead of a semi crashing inside my head. I was happy to be upright.